


For Atlas

by scp116



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Abuse, rhys strongfork is an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27289501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scp116/pseuds/scp116
Summary: Jack didn't deserve a second chance, certainly not after all he's done to Timothy. Rhys knew that.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Timothy Lawrence/Rhys
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	For Atlas

Timothy was quiet, when Rhys got home. He had been since he tried to sneak up on him in his office a few days prior, and as much as Rhys wanted to deny it, he probably saw something he shouldn't have seen. He was trying to be romantic, Rhys knew that, _loved_ that about him- but a warning before he snuck up on Rhys at his chair might have saved them. When Rhys shouldered open the door to their shared home and set his jacket on the coat rack, tugging his tie off slowly as his eyes fell on Timothy at the stove, the smile he got from his partner was...brisk. Timothy didn't look at Rhys as he walked up behind him and leaned into his back, hands coming up to hold him in place. The fork scraping away at the bottom of the pan stopped before Rhys felt hands covering his, only for a second before they returned to their task.

Jack didn't deserve another chance- he knew that much. He was cruel, undoubtably- fucking _evil_ , even. But Hyperion had flourished under Jack for a reason. As evil and brutal as he was, and as well as Atlas was doing without a... _consultant_ , it was a shame to keep Jack just dangling off his neck like he'd been doing. Tim didn't know what it was, never asked. Maybe assumed it was some dark part of his past, some painful memory he wouldn't share without a lot of alcohol or death hanging over his head. The closest Tim had gotten to it was taking the locket that held it in his teeth while he hovered over Rhys, sweating and grunting while Rhys clawed at him. The string looped around his neck almost snapped when he arched his back before Timothy let go- and that was the closest he'd ever been to the eye that still housed what was left of Jack. Maybe he noticed, when all was said and done and the night wound down, Timothy's fingers drawing gentle circles on Rhys' torso, he closed his hand around the necklace and closed his eyes at the ceiling.

But he didn't ask. Because if Timothy was anything, it was a good boyfriend.

It had taken some work to adapt the eye to his computer, even the souped up supercomputer Atlas' money had granted him, but as hard as it was, he knew what he was doing. Dozens of quick, fleeting inquiries, all assuring himself he would never actually _do_ _it_ , never actually take the steps to bring him back, he'd just know what he was doing if he needed to for any reason. And he didn't. Really, really didn't need to. After all the work was done on the desktop, and a burner laptop was requested from whatever department had a spare, he turned the USB over in his hands and plugged it in.

Leaning back into the chair- formerly Jack's, salvaged from the Helios station, still donning the old Hyperion colors, he chewed on his thumbnail as he tapped his fingers on the space button. There shouldn't have been any risk, really, this laptop was essentially nothing but a terminal, and he'd gutted the internet adaptor himself- there was _no way_ Jack could fuck things up from where he was. All he could do was input from this tiny laptop, and that was it.

The loading screen booted into the terminal, which flickered a bit when Rhys hit the button to execute the file on the thumb drive. The computer paused, the blinking cursor disappearing before-

>IS THAT MY CHAIR, PUNKIN?

Rhys exhaled and closed his eyes has he rubbed his temple, realizing he forgot to cover up the tiny camera at the top of the screen. Forgot to cover up the microphone too, now that he thought about it.  
"Can't have people forgetting who I toppled to get here. Certainly serves to intimidate." A small ellipses scrolled across the input line, before stopping as Jack's message popped up.

>CHEEKY, RHYSIE. WHAT WAS THAT I SAID BEFORE WE PARTED WAYS?

Rhys leaned forward on his forearms, smirking and raising an eyebrow. Almost reminiscent of Jack, right when he though he'd won. Every time but once. "I can't recall."

>THIS IS WHAT SUCCESS LOOKS LIKE. AFTER A WHILE YOU START TO MEASURE IT BY THE PILE OF DESTRUCTION AROUND YOU.

>YOU'VE GOTTA BREAK IT DOWN TO BUILD IT BACK UP.

"...by the pile of destruction around you." Rhys said in unison with the letters appearing on the screen. He tried to forget that part of the night. Tried to forget most of the night, but some things he couldn't dismiss. The last part was added as an afterthought almost, a split second between sentences a computer wouldn't have allowed for.

>YOU DID IT.

>YOU BROKE ME DOWN, SWEETHEART.

His breath hitched.

>ARE YOU GONNA BUILD ME BACK UP?

Rhys closed his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, fingers lingering over the button to eject the thumb drive and put Jack back into stasis. He nearly did, every memory of Jack pounding around his skull. He couldn't even hear Jack's name anymore, feeling like a child who hadn't yet been caught for some misdoing. Nobody knew about the night Jack died for the second time, then again, nobody even knew he'd come back in the first place.

>HIYA, TIMTAM.

Before Rhys could process what that meant, he felt Timothy's arms around him, securing him to the chair as his face buried into the crook of Rhys' neck. "Hey, babydoll. Sorry to sur..." He trailed off as Rhys fumbled to shut the laptop, eyes scanning over the last message before the metal shell slammed closed. "...surprise you."

"It's alright, I- I was just wrapping up." He peeled off Tim's grip and stood, turning around to dive into Tim's embrace without the chair in the way. "Getting ready to head home, I was thinking of getting something delivered for dinner, sweetheart."

"Ah..." He had a bit of a dazed look on his face, looking vaguely distressed and confused before tightening his grip on Rhys.

That was all Rhys had to go off of. Timothy hadn't said much that night, and he certainly didn't bring up what Rhys was working on, but as horrible of a _person_ Rhys had come to realize he was, he wasn't such a horrible boyfriend that he couldn't tell when Tim was upset.

It was easy to hope, for the day. Hope that Tim hadn't seen it, or he would ignore it, or inquire about the technological wonder that was _Jack_. But he didn't. Just gave gentle smiles like he always did, leaned in for the goodnight kiss like he always did, and rolled onto his side of the bed. Like he didn't typically do. Timothy was the most affectionate guy he'd ever dated, as he pointed out between kisses on the couch many times. Maybe he shouldn't have read into Timothy staying on his side of the bed. But he also shouldn't have tried to contact Jack again. The cold sheets between them prickled at his skin as he shifted and tried to get comfortable, which got harder and harder to do with the growing hole settling in his chest.

He should have considered that reaching out to Jack would upset Timothy. Hurting him was all Jack did, and he didn't deserve the fear of that _monster_ coming back. It took Rhys months to get Timothy to open up- the scars he didn't want to explain, the...shock collars. And even knowing all that, Rhys still...tried to bring him back. Whether he was willing to or not, Rhys thought as he pulled the covers tighter, he might have to learn to live without everything he loved in Timothy, after fucking up like he did. For Atlas. The thought clawed at his skin and sunk him into the mattress, as he let out a dry, quiet sob. If Timothy was thinking what Rhys prayed he wasn't, he could bring it up himself. Rhys wasn't about to start the conversation that would end the best thing that had ever happened to him, This was either the price of progress or the price of hubris, Jack never knew the difference and neither did he, apparently..

By the time Timothy rolled over and put an arm over Rhys, he was already too far gone, lost in his own loathing to realize. Loathing himself, Jack, Timothy for being too good to lose without dying.

"Will it be worth it?" Rhys turned his head, the plush lips at the base of his neck bringing him back to reality long enough for him to process the question.

"I don't know." His eyes closed, Timothy exhaled, hot on his neck, and nestled his face against Rhys' shoulder.

"Okay."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Lost_Elf for the prompt that inspired this fic! Hope you all enjoyed!


End file.
